


Through the Eyes of A Messenger

by askarella



Category: Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, DC comics - Freeform, Gen, Poetry, Sad, narrative poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askarella/pseuds/askarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of poetry from the POV of Arella/Angela Roth, mother of Raven</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Do I Matter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watch in silence from my window as they drag away the bodies

I watch in silence from my window as they drag away the bodies

A beautiful couple, shot for their money

A small boy that I know from school crying, crying like the first time we met

His body shakes as the sobs leave him, his suit covered in his parents’s blood.

I want to leap down and hug him, but the break in my leg my mother gave me keeps me immobile.

My father screams at me- he found the food I stole from him, and now I cannot eat for a week

I wobble to my bed and sit down on it, silent tears falling down my face

The Waynes were so nice, so beautiful and giving

I cry for days, and my sorrow for the crybaby outweighs the hunger pains.

I wonder why someone would do that to them, why anyone would hurt my crybaby

I cannot help but call him mine, for I always seem to catch him at his most vulnerable

But I am only an abused girl in the Slums of Gotham, What do I matter?


	2. Oh How They Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started in the Slums with me, a girl with zealot parents who hit

It started in the Slums with me, a girl with zealot parents who hit

Then a cult pretending to be a Church

And a monster pretending to be a God.

Then a night of smoke and silk and sweat and tears

And a marriage that I do not know the legality of.

Then I felt it, a kick, and I wanted to die.

But as I lifted the pills to my mouth,

I heard her cry, so softly that it made me cry.

I cried for days, my daughter’s crying ringing in my ears.

Then it came, the portal with the elderly woman inside.

She held me, let me cry, then she took me in the silvery orb.

I was given a name of such beauty that once more I cried.

They called me their angel, these pacifistic people.

Their love made Her scratching and kicking less painful.

Her birth hurt so much…

The physicians said that my malnutritian made me under-developed on the inside.

My heart my lungs my liver my stomach, all those and more are too small for a woman of my size.

But all the pain, it was wall worth it to hold her in my arms

She reminded me of my favorite bird, her dark innocent beauty was worth it.

But the wounds of my heart caused by her father… Oh how they Burn


	3. Every Hit is a Strike Against my Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I play my music softly, barely audible to my ears

I play my music softly, barely audible to my ears

The tempo is soft, melodic like an expensive whore’s laugh

I sway softly to the beat, my curls brushing against my back

The door slams open, my heart stops on impact

He yells so loud I feel it in my breasts, but the hit on my face is felt more then the sound.

He calls me a whore, tells me that my smooth jazz is devil music.

I feel my sanity slip as he throws me across the room, and as I land my bony back hits the window.

My mal-nourished form is so brittle and sharp, the window shatters and the glass cascades down to the floor.

My father screams, telling me to look at what I’ve done

He asks if I am proud, as he picks me up by the collar of my shirt

I resist the urge to spit in his face, my cheek remembering the pain of when I last did that.

I need to run, I need to hide

I need to get away from these monsters, who hit me in the name of their God.

Every hit is a strike against my sanity, and I fear that Arkham is in my future.


	4. Sometimes I Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wonder  
> What my life   
> would be like  
> Had Trigon been  
> What he had  
> Appeared to be

Sometimes I wonder  
What my life   
would be like  
Had Trigon been  
What he had  
Appeared to be

Would I have  
Lived Happily Ever  
After with him  
Like the Beauty?  
Would he be  
My Terrible Beast?

Would our Daughter  
Have lived like  
A Princess in  
A castle made  
of white marble?

Would I have  
Been happy with  
Him and our  
Child?

Why could he  
Not be a God  
Like he had  
Masqueraded as for  
Me?

I hate him.  
I love our  
Daughter.

Raven is my  
Salvation.


End file.
